


It's Like, Christmas Law

by lovesexdeath_valley (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, ehh, i got the idea off of tumblr but i dont know where the post is, i might make a trohley version too, i wrote this so quickly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lovesexdeath_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the prompt off tumblr but idk where the post is?? i think it was something like "which member of your otp puts mistletoe all around the house and which one is really confused/annoyed by it"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Like, Christmas Law

Patrick was going to kill Pete.  

He'd had a long fucking day in the studio, (recording vocals isn't fucking easy, Pete. At least I actually contribute to this band) and all he wanted to do was maybe eat a little and then sleep for approximately twelve years. Give or take a millennia. So, no, he wasn't exactly happy when he took one step through his front door and was met with Pete Wentz's lips. He leaned in for a moment, (c'mon, like you'd turn down a kiss from Pete Wentz) and then pulled back with raised eyebrows.

"Uh, hello? Why did you do that?" he asked, frowning slightly. 

Pete just grinned at him, "It's Christmas law!" Patrick was about to, despite his better judgement, ask what the hell that meant, when he glanced up and saw the mistletoe tapped to the ceiling. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but he was interrupted when Pete spoke again, "If you keep standing there I'm gonna have to kiss you again."

That moved him into action. He stepped inside and kicked his shoes across the hall, "So, two questions, why are you in my house and why did you put mistletoe over my door?"

"One answer: 'cause it's Christmas!" Pete exclaimed, pushing him towards the general direction of the kitchen.

"Don't you have your own house to, I don't know, fester in?"

"Well, yeah, but you're not there, Tricky."

Patrick made an uncomfortable sound, "Yeah, no. Thought we agreed on no 'Tricky'."

"More like you suggested it and I ignored you."

"That seems to be about right-where are we going? Why does my house smell like cinnamon? Are you cooking?" Patrick tried to turn and glare at/possibly punch Pete but the fucker was pushing past him so he could get to the oven.

"Awesome!" he grinned, grabbing Patrick's mom's old oven mitts that he may have possibly stolen in his move, "My gingerbread is done!"

Patrick's eyebrows went up as he peered around at the tray, "Like, you baked them? Or you hired someone to?"

Pete gave him his best wounded look, "What the fuck? No? Dude this was all 100-percent me. Why do you always doubt my skills?"

"Because most of the time your 'skills' involve creating a slip-n-slide with dish soap and stupidity," Patrick mumbled, earning him a glare and a(n), albeit soft, punch to the arm.

"That was one fucking time. Give me a break." 

"You played that stupid thing up for weeks! You tried to get out of setting up by saying you had 'eye pains' and explaining how 'everything is so blurry, 'Trick. I don't think I can make it. Tell my mom I love her'."

Pete scoffed, poking at his misshapen cookies, "What? I never said that! I took my duties as a bassist seriously back in the day."

Patrick glanced up from where he was trying to climb up on his kitchen counter to stare at him, "Joe had to almost push you in front of a truck before you promised to start doing the work."

Pete just laughed, "Oh yeah. That I do remember. I wasn't really scared, though.  Andy Hurley would've saved me."

"Who's idea did you think it was?" Patrick murmured under his breath, finally succeeding in hopping up on his countertop. 

To his surprise, however, Pete looked up instantly, "He what? Andy?"

Patrick made a mock sympathetic face, "I'm afraid so."

Pete looked scandalized for a moment before he shrugged and continued fusssing with his cookies, "Hey, give me that icing behind you?" Patrick rolled his eyes but fumbled behind him for the bag, and then leaned forward to give it to Pete. He opened his mouth to get his attention, but before he could speak, Pete leaned in and kissed him again.

Patrick squeaked quite embarrassingly, and cupped his hand around the back of Pete's neck (only to keep his balance, he swears). Pete grinned and pulled back, nuzzling his nose against Patrick's, "Hey."

Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "What was that one for?" 

"It's Christmas Law." Patrick immediately looked up, and sure enough, mistletoe was taped to the ceiling. 

He fought off a smile and looked back down at Pete, who was still inches from his face, "Exactly how many have you put around here? And how can you even reach my ceiling?"

Pete looked offended, "Hey! I'm taller than you fucker!" Patrick just raised an eyebrow and Pete pulled back and grumbled, "I might've borrowed Joe's ladder."

"Uh huh," Patrick smirked, leaning back to his previous spot, "How much mistletoe have you put around here?"

Pete's lips twitched, "Enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Let's just say, I'd look above every doorway if I were you."

×××××××××××××

Twenty minutes, and four and a half kisses, later, they were sitting on the couch with a plate full of gingerbread cookies and a holiday movie on the TV. 

"I still don't see why we can't watch The Nightmare Before Christmas," Pete complained, kicking his feet up on Patrick's lap.

"First of all, that barely counts as a Christmas movie, and secondly, we've watched that goddamn movie every Christmas and Halloween since, like, 2004. It gets fucking old, man," Patrick reasoned, placing the plate of cookies on Pete's legs.

"You get fucking old ," Pete grumbled, sullenly picking up the biggest cookie he could find.

"Oh, that one got me. That wounded me," Patrick deadpanned poking Pete's foot. The bassist wiggled around, almost spilling the cookies, and tried to hide his laugh by shoving an entire cookie in his mouth. "So you never answered me, why all the misteltoe?" Pete got an exasperated expression on his face, but before he could insult Patrick's intelligence, he continued, "You know you could've, like, asked me to kiss , dude. Like, years ago."

Pete paused and beamed for a moment, before he launched himself at Patrick, this time actually catapulting the cookies across the room. He tackled Patrick against the armrest, nuzzled their noses, and then pressed their lips together. Patrick grinned and wrapped his arms around Pete's neck, effectively pulling him closer and stopping his wiggling.

Several minutes and a lot of groping later, they were sitting back up again. The plot of the movie was completely lost to them, but Pete had an arm around Patrick's shoulders with Patrick's head resting on his bicep.

"You're picking up all those cookies, you know. And cleaning my kitchen," Patrick mumbled, falling asleep even as he spoke.

"Mhmm. Sure."

He shifted, "So mistletoe, huh?"

He could feel Pete's grin, "It was Andy's idea."

"Oh yeah? He always has the best ones."

Pete nodded for a moment before he realized what Patrick was saying, "Hey! You would miss me if Joe pushes me in front of a car."

Patrick gave him a sleepy smirk, "Keep telling yourself that." Pete made an offended sound, but cuddled in close to Patrick anyways.

He could always tell when he was lying.


End file.
